


Merthur's 7 Habits of a Healthy Relationship (Not)

by AlixxBlack



Series: Holidays with Merthur [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 7 healthy habits of relaitonships, Gen, Implied Merthur, It's kind of a mess, M/M, emerging merthur, except not for merthur, holiday fluff, love joust, love makes its own rules, not even a pun listen, oyfed, valentine's day fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: Some professionals say that there are seven general habits that will ensure a healthy relationship, and I'm here to say: nope. Merthur is proof that relationships come in all sorts of shapes and sizes - worthless "professional" advise aside.





	Merthur's 7 Habits of a Healthy Relationship (Not)

**7 Habits of a Healthy Relationship**

* * *

 

**#1 You should always celebrate good news together!**

 

* * *

 

            Spring is a beautiful season but not the current one. Merlin yearns for those warm days spent washing clothes alongside Gwen, snacking on fresh berries and joking about the royal pains in their job. Inevitably, Merlin has much more to complain about than Gwen.

            Without realizing that he’s rounded the corner, not usually because he walks the same route nearly every morning, Merlin finds himself face first in the chest of Uther Pendragon – King of Camelot. “I should have your head,” he starts.

            Merlin nods stupidly because it’s all he can do.

            “But I fear you don’t have it now,” Uther decides. He starts to walk away before he shouts ‘Aha’ and turns around to begin shouting Merlin’s name. Rolling his eyes before he turns around, Merlin forces a grin to meet the King’s gaze. “There is a joust coming up that Arthur has been invited to do in Oyfed. I’ve sent that he shall be in attendance. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

            Presumably, he is to explain this to Arthur. After a quick nod, the manservant rushes away before the King tries to talk to him again. Along the way he tries to recount a joust at this time of year. The second month of the year is still snowy, though less so than the others addled by winter, and generally isn’t considered to be the best time for travel.

            He doesn’t go to Arthur’s chambers straight away but when he does arrive, Merlin makes the announcement immediately. Arthur doesn’t take kindly to the news. “Oyfed? I’ve been there once! Are they even a proper kingdom anymore? A joust?” He continues to moan and groan while angrily throwing stuff about to be packed. Arthur can throw a royal tantrum if he chooses and it is not anything that Merlin would describe as “something to behold.”

            “You should be happy, though, because you’ll get out of the castle. Plus, it’s a surprise. Consider it a holiday gift coming a bit late,” Merlin feigns excitement while he tidies up around the chambers. Honestly, this should have been good news, right? Arthur has been complaining about being stuck inside, particularly antsy and energetic this year, and he’s been complaining nonstop about wanting to get outside. And he’d been outside, of course, to do hunts and close quarters patrols. It’s not like he’d been _stuck_ inside the castle walls for months. He had been out.

            What he really wanted was a reason to go do something out of the ordinary. So why is he begin such a sod about going to this joust? Furthermore, Merlin wants to know why he, himself, is also kind of grumpy about it. Good news? Well, not exactly.

 

* * *

 

**#2 Keep the positive thought ratio high. Never let the negative thoughts outweigh the positive ones.**

 

* * *

 

            Snow is pretty deep and the brightness of the snow in the daylight is absolutely blinding. There were multiple occasions where Arthur would beg to stop so that they could just close their eyes and relax. If he knew a way to lessen the pain, Merlin would have suggested it or cast the spell. Frustrated by the continual stops, however, he does try to encourage Arthur at the least.

            “What’s a brave knight like you need to keep stopping for?” Merlin tries.

            Arthur grunts, digs out a loaf of bread and picks at the edges while atop his horse. The lack of a proper response means that Merlin needs to try again, he guesses. “Sire, I feel like you’re worried that I’m not going to be able to keep up with you, and that’s probably true. That’s unusually kind of you but it is not necessarily.”

            This time he twists his head around to look Merlin straight on, and then with his grunt he rolls his eyes. A smile threatens to come over his lips but it doesn’t. If he smiles it will only make Arthur angry. Merlin is honestly trying to do the opposite of that. So he tucks his chin down and reiterates. “I am not much, my lord, but I am capable of riding a horse behind you. I have followed you everywhere, have I not?”

            “Oh, are you insinuating that I can’t ride one behind you, then?”

            What?

            _What?_

            “I’m sorry…” he tries to process the jump that Arthur makes from his rhetorical question to his snarky reply. Was he really insinuating anything other than his unencumbered devotion to the prince? Even as questioning and outspoken as he is for a manservant, Merlin certainly didn’t intentionally irritate Arthur. Not this time… “I was just trying to say that we don’t have to keep stopping because of the sunlight. I can keep up with you.”

            That means nothing, of course, because Arthur swings around to position himself behind Merlin. Commanding both horses to move forward, Arthur’s voice is booming. In many inexplicable ways, it feels like a whip wrapping around Merlin’s throat hearing the bite in his tone. This was already a hard day. Did he really have to be an arse about it too?

            Time floats by awkwardly while Arthur directs his manservant from behind, which has it’s own slew of jokes to come with it, until the prince begins loudly – exasperating? His sighs become so dramatic that Merlin can’t help but ask. “What is wrong, my lord?”

            “It’s just…” And now he’s trailing off. Only he doesn’t hold back his laugh. He doesn’t have to wonder if he’s said something wrong. Arthur just doesn’t have to care about these things, really, and that’s fine by Merlin. He is glad that Arthur doesn’t feel inhibited. That’s their relationship: they just trust each other.

            Of course, it is insanely irritating. For obvious reasons.

            “You really know how to ride a horse and it’s impressive. I am just distracted by the fact that your trousers are saggy and bunching up against the saddle. Your hair is messy and I swear you stink worse than a stagnant river.” The only thing that keeps Merlin from whipping his horse around and attacking Arthur with the fury of his long-hidden magic is the fact that Arthur keeps prattling on and on about all of Merlin’s imperfections. Without getting a word in edgewise, how can Merlin even react?

 

* * *

 

**#3 Keep your standards high so that you never accept anything less than your partner’s best.**

 

* * *

            Merlin and Arthur’s stops prevent them from making it to any sort of village or city before nightfall so they’re taking up residence inside of a cave. The opening does let in any wind, there’s no snow piling inside of it, either. Merlin spent time gathering sticks to make a small fire while Arthur went on a short hunt for meat. It’s not much but he manages a couple of squirrels.

            Squirrel stew is better than no stew at all, the men agree, and so Merlin prepares it using snow for the water, pine sap from the trees for sweetness, and chunks of the meat freshly shaved from the poor critter’s bones. “That smells interesting.”

            “You smell interesting,” he growls in quick reply. Arthur’s constant nitpicking all day were simply too much to bear after some time. A frown painted to his lips and a fire in his heart, though, Merlin can’t stop there. He has some pent up anger so he further snarks the prince. “Thankfully, I don’t ever expect you to smell _good._ ”

            “Says the servant boy who mucks my stables,” Arthur laughs haughtily. “Hopefully you don’t muck up my dinner. Clumsy as you are, you might think I should sleep in it rather than eat it.”

            Merlin urges himself to hold his tongue.

            But he fails.

            “Your standards of me are so high, my lord. I’m afraid that I might disappoint.” And disappoint he does – by flinging a small spoonful of the water at his companion. Arthur responds by throwing a snowball in Merlin’s face. Silently agreeing that they are even, each stands and unrolls their bags on opposite sides of the cave, which is long and narrow rather than wide. They aren’t quite two meters apart but it is enough space. At least for today.

            Maybe not tomorrow. They’ll have to see what the morning holds.

 

* * *

 

**#4 Remain close to your friends and family. It is important to have more than your partner in your support system.**

 

* * *

Merlin is still reeling about the fact that King Uther send Arthur to do this joust in Oyfed and it is a _love_ joust. The winner of the jousting tournament gets to marry the king’s daughter. Arthur has zero interest in but as soon as he found out he told Merlin to take the day off. This raises some worry in his mind immediately but he’s comforted when he sees that Sir Leon has also come along with other familiar faces from the knights.

            When he tracks the King down, though, Arthur is chatting with the King and his daughter joyously. Merlin bows to interject, never taking his eyes off of Arthur – who never once sets his upon Merlin. “Sire, I came to see if you would need me this evening.”

            “Absolutely not, enjoy the festivities.”

            Merlin lingers but then bows again, both to Arthur and the King of Oyfed. He doesn’t bother to learn his name because he speeds his way through the banquet hall until he tracks down Sir Leon. Being a servant means waiting until the knights and nobles decide to acknowledge his or her presence. Sir Leon, thankfully, welcomes Merlin at the first lull. “This is Prince Arthur’s personal manservant! He’s been given the night off, I understand, and he certainly deserves it. I’ve never met a more dedicated young man.”

            Compliments of the shortest variety escape their lips before Sir Leon realizes that perhaps he should excuse himself for a moment. Once they are cleared from others, Merlin complains. “Arthur refuses to talk to me or even look at me. Has he spent any time with the other knights?”

            “Afraid not,” Sir Leon mumbles with his features wrinkle into the center of his face. His concern is clear in a quieter way. “We tried to invite him around for some friendly sparring before the tournament tomorrow. Instead he spoke with the knights from Oyfed and the stranger ones from Nemeth all afternoon.”

            Someone passes by so Merlin squeezes in a compliment to mask the seriousness of their conversation. “Ever the diplomat his father raised, that Prince Arthur, isn’t her?” Merlin doesn’t mean to say it so loud but it sort of booms into the space around them. Sir Leon smiles easily, though, and proves how much better he is as these sorts of things.

            “You are quite right,” he replies boldly. “He will require your services in the morning, I’m sure, so why don’t you head off to rest.” Without needing to say it, Merlin knows that Sir Leon will watch after Arthur. The strange disposition is obvious to someone else, which is comforting and damning simultaneously. Pushing those friends, those men who are considered family, away is not going to make the shock of this Love Joust any less difficult.

            “Thank you, sire, I shall see you at the joust.”

            Merlin can wait for Arthur to come around in the meantime. There’s a sofa in guest bedroom he’s been given, so what’s the harm in resting there for a little bit, he wonders – and the decides there is none.

 

* * *

 

**#5 Don’t expect your partner to be the sole reason for your happiness. Do not expect them to make you happy first.**

 

* * *

            Unsure who to be when Arthur isn’t hanging around, Merlin slouches in the sofa while flipping through the pages of a book that he found packed away in Arthur’s bags. Initially, it is hardly significant. Pages after pages of old tales about knights being courageous and brave. Typical reading material for someone as arrogant as Arthur, at least that’s what Merlin convinces himself for a few minutes.

            Until he reminds himself that sometimes – he’s convinced that Arthur is illiterate. How many speeches did Merlin end up writing for the prince? How many letters had he scrawled? Arthur didn’t do his own writing if he could avoid it and even less often than that - his own reading. “Why do you have this?”

            To pass the time, he reads each story. It comes as no surprise to the warlock that every story resembles the one that came before it, repeating this cycle until there is a story at the end about “A Knight and His Manservant.”

            Obviously written in Arthur’s handwriting, this story depicts a ‘handsome and talented’ young prince accompanied by his ‘incapable and ignorant’ manservant who somehow always saves the day by being stupid. Sometimes this manservant would do something erratic or something that would seem counterproductive, but in the end it helped the prince and his knights.

            “Sod,” Merlin curses, throwing the book across the room and knocking down an empty case. It doesn’t shatter when it hits the ground and it frustrates Merlin so he floats it back onto the pedestal. After a moment of letting his anger bubble, he then flings the vase across the room and watches it shatter into pieces near the outlying window. Upon the cushion the pieces shall sit until he is tasked with cleaning them tomorrow.

            Drifting in and out of a sleepy haze, the prince manages to sneak into the chambers without alerting Merlin to his presence. It isn’t until Arthur is stripped to his skivvies that he sees the manservant lying sprawled over the sofa with the book on the floor next to him.

 

            Arthur stares at his manservant with a longing in his heart. Happiness is such a strange thing and to get it simply from the companionship of his serving staff? The idea feels so natural that he almost can’t accept it. Reaching out to Merlin’s leg hanging over the side, he considers trying to move him to the bed without waking him, but Merlin sits straight up at the stirring. “Just in time to get kicked out,” Arthur growls against his wishes. Literally, he’d feel much better if Merlin just stayed put.

            “I’m surprised you lasted so long without me, my lord, but I’m glad to see it. Maybe you can get your own breakfast in the morning too!” While leaving, Arthur reminds Arthur that he’s needed first thing in the morning. Merlin refutes and opens the door very slowly so that it creaks loudly with every movement. It’s an effort to drown out the prince’s voice, he thinks.

            But he won’t be misheard, “Stay. I demand it.”

            “Am I really your own source of satisfaction, my lord?” Merlin jokes. _He jokes he thinks,_ Arthur notes to himself. _He doesn’t know how right he is,_ the prince declares to himself. Most others find pleasure in their craft in their status or in themselves. Not Arthur Pendragon, though. No.

            He finds his greatest source of happiness in the eyes of his bloody manservant. “Fine,” he agrees. It puts Arthur’s racing heart as ease before he crawls into bed with little more than his knickers to cover him.

 

* * *

 

**#6 Be intimate! Be intimate as often as you can, wherever you can, whenever you can. Don’t be afraid of (or shy about) physical affection.**

 

* * *

            Before the first round of the joust this morning, something feels especially daunting about battling for some woman’s heart. She isn’t really giving it away, is she? She’s probably just agreeing to whatever her father wants. Arthur met her yesterday and she was pretty enough but her personality was missing – like a page in a book. He knew before he came that something wasn’t quite right but he was sure that he would win regardless.

            Now, he’s not so sure.

            If he were to win her hand, which he doesn’t want, he would surely lose something that matters far more to him than political power: _love._ Without even realizing what he’s doing, Arthur places his left hand over Merlin’s waist and draws him in for a strange sort of sideways hug. A second passes and he decides it is an ineffective way of showing his affection so he turns into his manservant and places his right hand on his waist. “I’m going to hug you now,” Arthur announces as commandingly as he feels is intimidating. Merlin shrugs and wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck – so easily – so unquestioningly – so _tightly._

But the proximity is a bit much, in a way, and Arthur moves his hips backwards. He cannot explain it even to himself because he definitely wants this embrace from his closest friend, truest ally. Why does he feel compelled to immediately put distance between himself and Merlin then? “That’s enough.”

            “Good luck, yeah? Don’t get killed out there,” Merlin speaks freely moving from one thing to next as any truly skillful servant should be able to do. “Your ignorant and incapable manservant won’t be out there to save you, after all.”

            Arthur counts himself stabbed through the heart as he exits the tent to take his place in the entry gate. 

 

* * *

 

**#7 Make sure that you do exciting things together and be exciting together. Don’t lose the spark!**

 

* * *

“That was the most dramatic loss I’ve ever seen,” he laughs hysterically on the king’s mattress. Arthur is lying on the bed with him, holding his hands over his face, clearly embarrassed. “You could not have made it more obvious that you were trying to lose!”

            The idea was thought up on a whim. This “Love Joust,” which is a terrible name in every way, wasn’t the way that Arthur wanted to get married. He wanted to fall in love properly and find someone who genuinely made him happy. Maybe happiness isn’t political power, right? After all, he’d heard about how deeply in love with his mother his father had been. True and sincere love is real.

            Daring to peer over at his manservant, so close and comfortable in this intimate position. It’s funny, isn’t it, being so at peace with this setting. Of all the people in the world – the one who argues, defies, insults, and all manner of other inappropriate things – that’s the one he feels safest with at his side. Where most men would want a knight defending them – Arthur would shamelessly admit he would take Merlin as his defense any day.

            No special skills, somebody might try to point out, to which Arthur would strike that liar down with thrilling ease. “Let’s grab some herbs from the market before we head back to Camelot.”

            “How domestic,” his voice wisps through his continued laughter. And he was quite right. Arthur showed up without his weaponry and unfastened his armor before he went out so that it sort of fell off with the breeze. Freezing and rigid form the remnants of the icy season, well, Arthur was left surrendering form his obvious inability to participate. “Good.”

            Arthur repeats himself for good measure, “Good.”

            _This_ is good.

            _This_ friendship; _This_ companionship; _This_ relationship.

            _This Merlin_.

            It is very good indeed.


End file.
